Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon
by Ronnie
Summary: Harry dares it. (Harmless piece of fluff. Yes. Fluffy enough to fill a pillow.)


'Never tickle a sleeping Dragon'  
  
Oh but it is so tempting.  
  
I smile as I watch him sleep, chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, striking grey eyes hidden behind his eyelids. He shifts as he dreams, fingers clutching the blanket. His head, resting on the pillow, its black color contrasting with the pure paleness of his skin, moves slightly from side to side. If not for the smile on his face, I'd think he was having a nightmare. But the smile and the occasion moans tell me other wise. My smile widens. I hope he's having fun. My fingers ache to trace the defined lines of his jaw and his face. I hold myself back. He didn't sleep much that night, I know. I heard him tossing and turning throughout the night and wondered what was keeping him up. He doesn't talk about what bothers him, my Dragon. He keeps it all to himself until he explodes. It was just the way he was. But I can tell when something is wrong. I shake my head. Stop, I say to myself. He's fine.  
  
He shifts in his sleep again, his hip bumping against my knee, but does not wake. He sleeps on, the smile never fazing. I giggle quietly and place my hand to my mouth to stop the sounds, not wanting to wake him. He's a light sleeper, usually. I doubt a bomb will wake him now. I can't stand not touching him anymore, and my fore finger reaches to push a strand of his silvery-blond hair away from his face, the tip of it linger over his skin as I make contact. It is so soft, so perfect, and I smile softly. My Dragon is so beautiful. Full of power, as a Dragon should be. A hidden power, as if waiting for the right moment to show itself. I know what he is capable of. I've seen him at his best and at his worst. And I still love him. And he is still mine.  
  
My hands travel lower, tracing his elegant neck, his collar bone, his shoulders. He sleeps on. I am excited with the new given freedom that I have, inching closer on the bed, my hands never leaving his skin. He is not wearing a shirt. Never does, when he sleeps. My hands travel down his chest and he shivers slightly under my touch. I pause, waiting to see if he wakes, but he sleeps on, as if nothing happened. I smile as my hands continue to travel lower, pushing the blanket down as they went, stopping at his navel, marveling at the little line of hair that descended into his boxers. I stop there, watching him thoughtfully. He never let me look at him like this when we make love. He claims he's ugly and that I shouldn't lay my eyes on him. I claim he's beautiful.  
  
And he is.  
  
The elegant line of his neck, the broad shoulders, the defined chest, the toned stomach. They all make him beautiful. And the fact that I know what kind of a person he is just makes him more beautiful. He's amazing.  
  
Finally, he stirs away and opens his eyes, blinking away sleep. He looks at me blankly for a moment until everything sinks in and he recognizes his surroundings and me. He smiles sleepily and stretches, yawning widely. My hand still rests on his stomach. He yawns again and then sits up. My hand drops to his lap and I giggle quietly while he looks at me blankly.  
  
"What are you doing?" he asks, voice still sleepy and raspy, grey eyes clouded over. I shrug my shoulders and lean over to kiss his lips lightly.  
  
"Tickling a sleeping Dragon." I say simply and stand up, brushing myself off and smiling brightly. He looks at me with this weird kind of look in his eyes, raising one fair eyebrow, puzzled. I enjoy the confused look on his face, laughing with mirth. My Dragon doesn't like it when he doesn't understand things. It makes him think he is out of control. I know he would never be.  
  
"Didn't they teach you not to do that at school?" he asks, sitting up and pulling the covers up to his chin, seeming like a small child, a sleepy, lazy grin stretching his mouth. I nod my head up and down slowly, knowing that my smile says pure sexual tension, and proceed to walk out of the room, pointedly swaying my hips in a rhythm. I can feel his eyes on my back. I laugh.  
  
"Oh Draco," I say as I turn around, "You're too much fun." And with that, I walk back to the bed and pounce on him.  
  
My Dragons makes the sweetest sounds when he's excited. 


End file.
